Not your typical holiday
by Halawia
Summary: Perhaps it's best to leave Thanksgiving to the other countries?


**I don't own Misfits or the characters.**

**I just like playin in the playground :)**

**This was fun to write! I'll meet you at the bottom X**

**...  
**

It's the smell of smoke that wakes him. That all too familiar scent is an unforgettable one, like a scar burned into his memory all this time later. It makes him think of Matt, of the carpet catching fire and the smoke that had billowed out the letter box as he tried to burn Matt's house down. He jerks up, eyes wide and inhales deeply. Something is definitely burning, and it makes him panic slightly.

His heart is racing slightly as he scrambles out from under the covers and shuffles into a pair of sweats, standing up from the bed. November has brought the cold and with that, freezing cement floors in the flat, a minor inconvenience. He's been meaning to put down carpet for a while now.

He's walking across the room and wiping the sleep from his eyes when voices from the kitchen catch his attention.

"Fuck!"

Definitely Alisha.

"Ya forgot to take the plastic off."

Kelly.

Brows pinched together curiously, he moves in the direction of their voices, coming around the corner to the kitchen. He stops in his tracks at the sight in front of him, his fingers twitching at his sides. There are bags and boxes and bits of food scattered everywhere across the kitchen, all over the counters. The fridge is hanging wide open and Alisha is currently bent over their small excuse for a stove, cursing under her breath.

"Hey, you."

He looks over to one of their benches where Kelly sits, a bright red cherry pinched between her fingers. She plops it in her mouth and smiles at him.

"Bit cold?"

When he gives her a confused look, she points to his chest. "You could take an eye out with one of those nips, mate." She wiggles her eyebrows and he looks down at his bare chest. His skin prickles in slight embarrassment. He should have put on a shirt, he thinks. "Lisha' wasn't lying, you're proper fit."

He flushes further and clears his throat, looking up again to find Alisha looking at him. "Hiya." The words sounds cheerful enough despite being said through a heavy scowl. He stares at her with the sweat across her brow and hair matted to her head, top stained with bits of god knows what, and he finds himself smiling. He likes her like this- a beautiful mess.

A bell dinging on the counter makes him jump a bit and Alisha cringe. She hurries to turn around and open the stove, letting out a string of curses.

"What are you doing?" he asks, shifting on his feet and looking to Kelly as she'll probably have more answers than his pissed off girlfriend.

Kelly shrugs. "It's Thanksgiving, mate."

He raises his eyebrows, eyes flitting to Alisha and then back to Kelly. "That's not our holiday."

Alisha stands up, then, and turns around, oven mitts on and holding what he's sure was once some version of a pie, but now looks so charred he can't be entirely sure. "Burned it anyway," she says with a pout, haphazardly tossing the container on the counter. "Fuckin pie. Why pumpkin pie, anyway? Doesn't even taste that good." She huffs and looks at him.

He has to bite back a smile. "You're making a Thanksgiving dinner?"

She crosses her arms and slumps onto her hip, giving a small shrug. "Why should everyone else get to enjoy a holiday that's all about eating good food?" She looks at Kelly who gives her an approving nod and then back to Simon. "We can have a Thanksgiving if we want, right?"

"I suppose." He looks around again. "But all this food for just us?"

"Naw, everyone's coming," Kelly answers for her. "Why'd ya think I'm here."

"To help eat all the food I bought, obviously," Alisha says with a small laugh.

"Well, someone's gotta eat it before you burn it all," she fires back, giving her a smile.

"So... everyone is coming?" he asks. "Everyone. Curtis and Rudy?"

"And Seth," Kelly replies.

"And you're cooking for everyone?" he continues, marveling at this idea. He's never seen Alisha like this, willing to do something nice for everyone. That's not to say she can't be nice, as she once reminded him, but he finds it funny... and endearing, also, that she'd do something for people she doesn't even always like.

In their time living together, he's grown accustomed to the simplicity she seems to enjoy, the take out she'll usually order and the meals he'll cook for them. She doesn't cook so much herself. One time she mentioned doing so and he'd had a vision of their kitchen burning down so he'd offered to take her out instead- not bothering to tell her about said vision, knowing it would probably upset her. Considering he hasn't gotten a vision so far concerning this meal she's putting together, he figures it must be safe.

"I was trying," she says with an exasperated sigh. "But after burning two pies and all the stuffing, I'm about ready to call off all the bullocks of this holiday shit and go lie down."

"You could always go take a nap while they Turkey finishes cooking," he offers. Then, upon realizing that the kitchen smells more like burnt food than the Turkey he figures one should be smelling, he asks, "Where it is, anyway?"

She waves a hand. "Haven't gotten to it yet."

His gaze goes to the clock, reading two in the afternoon, and his eyes widen. "The turkey isn't cooking yet?"

"Uh, no. I was trying to get the other shit done first..." She waves her hands around at all the things lying about. "As you can see."

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them and telling her, "Alisha, the turkey takes at least five hours to cook. It should have been gutted and put in hours ago if you were planning to eat any time before eight tonight."

"See, what did I tell ya," Kelly answers. "I said that, didn't I?"

Alisha, now looking more annoyed than before, throws her hands up in the air. "How do you even know this shit, Simon? When have you ever cooked a turkey, hm? Mister master chef."

He looks back and forth a couple times and then back at her. "I watch a lot of television."

"Oh, good! Then maybe you could give me a hand instead of just standing there doing fuck all."

Once, in a time that doesn't even feel that long ago, her sharp words would have made him flinch, made him scurry away like a dog with it's tail tucked between his legs. He remembers how scared he would feel under her hard gaze, the confusion that lingered between that emotion that made him feel attracted to her, as well.

Now that time's passed, and he's gotten to know her better, her words no longer cut him down or make him feel small. He knows now that this is just how she is, how she vents frustration. She admitted to him once that she found it easier to lash out at someone else when she's angry than to internalize the anger and make herself feel terrible. He doesn't fault her, not anymore.

In fact, he's more amused by it than anything. Maybe even a bit turned on, he thinks as she blows her curls out of her face. "All right," he says with a smile. "Let me get dressed and I'll help you. Try not to burn anything while I'm gone."

He chuckles when she rolls her eyes.

...

Back in the kitchen after hurriedly changing into his clothes, he pulls his debit card out of his wallet and hands it to Kelly. "Go to the shop," he tells her. "Grab some more pies and stuffing."

"You're just gonna give me your card?" she asks, raising her eyebrows and reaching for it hesitantly. "You trust me enough for that?"

He holds it further out at her until she fully takes it, answering, "Yes."

She smiles. "No one's ever done that for me. Knew there was a good reason to have you as a mate."

He smiles back before spouting off his pin number, and it only makes Kelly beam more. He never knew such a simple act could illicit such a reaction. Though Kelly's always been one to assume people think the worst of her. Sometimes he wonders if she misses having her old power, but then he thinks about the week prior and how they'd worked together in silence dissembling a microwave and how content she'd looked at being able to do so. It would seem she's okay now, not being able to hear what other people think.

Before Kelly leaves, she motions for him to come closer and tells him in a hushed voice, "It's probably a good thing you stepped in. Reckon she was one burned thing away from going mental."

So he finds himself whispering back, "Make sure to grab a banana cream pie, they're Alisha's favorite. Maybe we can distract her with it while we finish fixing dinner?"

This makes Kelly laugh all the way to the lift... and probably further down, he thinks, but can't hear over the noise of it.

With her being gone, and the usual silence of their flat returned, Simon turns back to Alisha. At her quirked eyebrow, he smirks. "What?"

"What did you say to her?"

"What? N- nothing!"

"I heard my name," she presses, giving him another pointed look.

He sighs. "If you must know, I was telling her how much I love you."

Alisha throws her head back and laughs. "You're so full of shit."

Smiling now, he makes it way over to the counter. "It's nice of you, to do this," he tells her, beginning to gather up the scattered bags.

She shrugs and comes over to start helping. "Thought it could be fun."

"I'm sure it will be." He tosses the empty bags in the bin and moves on to putting things in the fridge while Alisha stacks things behind him. In a good ten minutes, they've managed to get their kitchen back in working order. "See," Simon says, walking over to her. "It's much easier to get things done when there's organization."

Alisha rolls her eyes. "Okay, sir neat freak."

He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, kissing the top of her head. "I love you, too."

She looks up at him and raises her brows as his hands slip under her shirt, sliding across the bare skin of her lower back. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you sending Kelly off was all part of some plan to get me alone."

He raises his shoulders and tries to give her as innocent a look as he can. "If I was?"

Reaching up, she takes his face between her hands and pulls it to hers, kissing him slow and deep, pressing her body closer to his in that way that makes his mind go blank, losing everything else but the focus and feel of her. She's his best distraction. He moves his hands from her back to her stomach, fingers dipping low enough to slide under the material of her pants and brush against her thighs. And then he finds himself huffing when she pulls away.

"Really should get started on that turkey," she says, giving him a sly smile.

"You can be a cruel woman, still, Alisha Bailey," he replies, licking his lips and noting that, at one point, Alisha must have been wearing some sort of chap stick because he can taste it.

She grins wider. "Oh, I can show you cruel later if you want."

"We won't ever get anything done here if you keep talking like that," he says with a laugh.

...

"I'm not doing it. Nope."

"Alisha, your hands are smaller than mine. I won't be able to fit them in there. You're going to have to do it."

They stand side by side at the kitchen sink, staring down into the hole where the turkey's head once was. Alisha shakes her head,like she's done a good few times since he explained to her what had to be done. "No fucking way. I did not sign up for this."

"You're the one who got the turkey," he reminds her.

"Yeah, well, it's not like you told me I was going to have to stick my hand inside the thing and pull out it's insides." She pulls a face.

"I didn't know you were doing this," he reminds her. "And we can't leave the innards inside it if we want to get stuffing in after. They have to come out. You have to do it."

Alisha looks up at him, her lower lip jutted out into a pout and he restrains the urge to bend down and nip at it like he would more than likely end up doing later that night anyway, after everyone is gone. She stares at him for a long moment before letting out a loud sigh and turning back to the turkey, standing up a little straighter.

"Fine! I'll gut the fucking turkey. But you're doing the rest. I don't care if you have to cram the stuffing in there with a spoon. It's that or we don't have turkey."

"I can do that."

With a sharp inhale and a small squirm of her shoulders, Alisha reaches toward the dead bird timidly. When her hand first touches the interest, she squeals shrilly and pulls it back, releasing a whine. "Simon, it feels disgusting."

"You can do it," he encourages, putting his hand on her shoulder.

She gives him a quick look from the corner of her eye, letting him see the displeasure, before going back to the task at hand. This time she moves quicker, trying to work, it would seem, at speeding up the process of getting it done by moving faster. She makes another whining sound as her hand slips inside the bird, and then she's quickly snatching it back, innards held tight in her grip. Simon takes a small step back as she tosses it in the sink noticing the curl of disgust on her upper lip.

"Alisha, you have to do it a little more careful or you're going to ruin the inside of the turkey."

This time, she gives him a look that he's sure meant she was currently killing him in her head. "What the fuck does it matter if the inside gets ruined? It all gets eaten just the same. Look, if all you're gonna do is bullshit lecture me the entire time I'm doing this bullocks, you find a way to do it."

"I wasn't trying to lecture you," he says softly. "Just giving you tips. I can try and help you if you want."

"You just said you can't fit your hand inside it," she huffs out.

Instead of answering, he comes around from beside her to stand directly behind her, his body pressed close to hers so he can reach around her. He notes that Alisha smells faintly of the pumpkin pies she had attempted to cook as his nose skims near the back of her neck when he goes to look over her shoulder. In this position, Alisha almost instantly seems to relax, her rigid back becoming slack against his chest as she leans into him for a moment.

"This feels nice," she tells him in almost a whisper.

"No distractions," he replies, nudging her arse with his hips until she giggles.

"Okay, okay. Show me how we do this."

"All right." He moves his arms up and gently circles her wrists with his hands- eliciting a soft sigh from Alisha- before guiding her hands towards the turkey. At the base, he waits until she's got her hand inside, and then helps her slowly pull back, carefully removing the insides. Her wet hands cause his own to slip down and cover hers, fingers sliding across one another as she drops the innards into the sink.

"This is so gross," she tells him with a laugh, taking his hands with her as she reaches up to turn on the sink and run some water over their appendages. She leaves it running and returns to the task, moving with an ease this time as she reaches inside and Simon once again helps guide her carefully along in the process. It dawns on him then, that he and Alisha have never cooked together.

And the act of it, something in the way Alisha moves her body, and the slippery wetness of their hands and fingers sliding over one another, her smell and feel as she presses into him... well, he can't really fault that he grows hard.

From the way Alisha's breathing changes, just the slightest hitch, and the way she slowly moves her hips side to side giving friction and pressure, tells him he's been caught. He may be behind her, but he can already picture the smirk she's probably wearing with perfect clarity. Even now, over a year into their relationship, she still enjoys getting a rise out of him. That much about her hasn't changed and he hopes never will, really. And it doesn't take much, he knows it never will, because maybe there are times he _likes _the build up more than she does- the anticipation of whatever could come.

The way that feeling is hanging between them just now.

When she turns around, he's quick to capture her mouth with his own, hand coming up to catch her hair and wind his fingers in it- something she'd usually have complaint against, but seems to hold no regard towards at the moment. Maybe because her wet hands are too busy soaking his shirt as she twists them up in the material and drags him closer so he's pressing her firmly into the counter. He pulls away to slide her shirt down over her shoulder and kiss her collarbone, the taste of salt on her skin and that low moan she makes at the back of her throat as he sucks a bit of warm flesh between his lips making him dizzy.

Alisha, even with trembling fingers, rushes with a seeming vengeance to undo the buttons of his shirt and yank it off his shoulders. He inhales sharply against her neck at the contact of her cold hands against his back, and the way her nails bite into his skin a bit as she slides them up. He can hear her the smile in her voice as she asks, "So this is happening, yeah? Right here, right now. What about the turkey?"

"Fuck the turkey," his mumble words fall into a moan as she slips her hands between their bodies and grabs his cock.

He raises his head enough to kiss her again, rougher than before, groaning against her mouth as she begins to stroke him.

She inhales shakily through her nose and leans away. "Rather you fuck me," she retorts, her free hand fisting the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling hard, leaning forward to nip at his jaw.

As if there were any other option at this point. He rocks forward into her touch, and shivers at the heat of her breath on his neck and her whimper in his ear as his hands slide down her body and cup her arse, quickly lifting her up and setting her on the counter. She fumbles to undo his trousers, leaving open mouthed kisses on his shoulder as he hikes up her skirt.

They work together in a tangible rush to push his trousers down his hips, the apparent ache in anticipation lost to them now as he pulls her knickers to the side and in one hasting movement, is thrusting inside her. He yanks her hard enough against him to illicit a gasp from her, a sound he relishes every time, no matter how many times he hears it. It's one of his favorite sounds to hear her make. It's his. That noise is for him, and god if it doesn't turn him on more.

One hand firm on Alisha's lower back, Simon uses his other hand to pull down the straps of Alisha's tank top until it slips down her shoulders, the top of her breasts now visible. She lets her head fall back with a moan as he drags his mouth over the skin, starting to move faster when she digs her heels into his arse. She matches each thrust with a roll of her hips, tightening around him and he can't hold back the moan that escapes him.

There is something in these moments, this frenzy to make it to the end as he struggles to hold on, hold back and make it last, that are a quick bliss.

Alisha reaches for his face and he's quick to catch her wrists in one hand, locking gazes with her as he pushes them up above her head and pins them to the cupboard. He uses his other to wind in her hair and yank her head back, nipping at the hollow of her throat, a delicate spot on her body that he knows will drive her closer.

She whines his name and bucks her hips, straining her wrists against his palms as she tries to pull her hand down. He relishes no control as he moves his hips, the force of each thrust a slap against her thighs. She tightens around him and he brings her mouth back to his with a moan. The heat of her, firm slick wet as he pulls back and drives forward, the staccato of her rising noises are all nearly enough to send him over.

At this point, Alisha is pulling as hard as she can to move her hands. He lets them go and slides his hands down to her thighs, fingers tightening on them to hold her in place, but she's having none of that. Her hand moves between their bodies and she starts to rub herself, pushing her forehead to his.

"Not yet," she pants.

Not yet, but close. He can hear it in the way her breath starts to hitch and her legs start to tremble. She grasps haphazardly at his hip and drives forward to meet each thrust, her head dipping to his shoulder as her moans get louder and this is his determination, his need to make sure she gets there. He thinks, for the briefest of moments, if they had neighbors surely they'd have gotten a citation by now. And he wouldn't care, because nothing could matter as much as the sound and feel of her.

The way she makes him feel.

One quick jerk of his hips and she lets go, body tensing and throwing her head back, back arching as she comes around him.

He's surprised he even manages to hear the, "Fuckin' hell, mate," above her cries.

He quickly freezes, causing Alisha to angrily slap at his shoulder. He turns his head slowly to find Kelly, Curtis, and Rudy standing a few feet away from them, a mix of displeasure on their faces, aside from Rudy who slaps at Curtis' arm. "I told ya," Rudy cries. "Told you I heard fucking. I'd remember that sound anywhere, I tell you."

"Man, shut up," Curtis retorts. He sucks in air through his teeth and turns around, muttering, "Wrong."

Kelly and Rudy too turn around, as well, until Rudy is the only one still standing there staring at them.

"Oh my god," he hears Alisha groan. "Fucking turn around, pervert," she bites out.

"No need to be rude," Rudy fires back, shuffling around. "How's we supposed to know Simon here would be balls deep- OW!" he yelps as Kelly stomps on his foot.

"We, uh, got the pies," she tells them.

"And the stuffing," Curtis adds.

"Yeah, thought it doesn't appear ya needed it. Whole lot of stuffing up in this flat, eh? Okay, okay!" he says when Kelly raises a fist.

"This is so fucking embarrassing," Alisha mutters and then gestures down between her and Simon. "Could you maybe..."

He wouldn't say it, but for a moment he does entertain the idea of telling the others to leave for just ten more minutes so they could finish up. After all, they did just interrupt him getting off. Instead, he pulls out of her with a slight scowl and hikes up his trousers. Then he helps Alisha down off the counter and watches her quickly adjust her top and skirt until she's presentable again. You wouldn't even be able to tell now that two seconds before they were fucking, he thinks.

"All right?" Curtis asks.

"You can turn around," Simon tells them, bending down to retrieve his shirt.

They all turn, Rudy still grinning. "Might wanna turn off that water," Kelly says, pointing to the sink.

He and Alisha both look and Simon's eyes widen, the sink has nearly over flowed. Alisha rushes to shut it off and looks back at him with a sigh.

"So, uh, that was something else, huh?" Rudy asks, wiggling his eyebrows and smiling wider.

"Oh, piss off!" Alisha snaps. "It _is _our flat.

Simon swallows hard and looks away in embarrassment. "We thought you'd be gone longer."

"If we knew about this, probably woulda been," Curtis replies, and then gives Kelly a look.

"Don't put this on me, mate. We weren't even gone that long!" She looks at Alisha. "It couldn't wait?" Then, giving a still shirtless Simon a quick look adds, "Kay, so maybe not." Which makes Alisha giggle.

"Well, this get together sure took a turn for the sexy, yes it did," Rudy says, looking at Alisha and giving her a wink to which she lets out a disgusted scoff and rolls her eyes. "Aw, it's all right, love, we all have our vices. Fetishes. So you like to have a shag making food, no judgement here. You know one time-"

"No one cares," Curtis cuts in with a shake of his head.

Simon finishes buttoning up his shirt and looks to the food still lying around and back at the others. "We should probably finish preparing this if we ever plan on eating it."

Kelly lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Not tryin' to be funny here, ya'll lot are my mates, yeah... but I'm not really feeling up for Thanksgiving dinner now. Sorry."

"What?" Alisha cries. "Kelly-"

"Lisha ya were shagging on the counter!" she rebuttals. "Our food's s'pose to go there!"

Rudy laughs. "Maybe some different juices would give the turkey more, uh, flavor."

Rudy too gives him a disapproving scowl and looks to Alisha. "I'd wipe the counter down if ye want."

Simon bites back a smile and tells him, "You don't have to do that."

"Fuckin seriously," Alisha says. "We got all this shit, and now no one wants it? I ruined my top for this rubbish-"

"Take out?" Simon interjects, before her complaints can grow in size. Not that he doesn't think her anger isn't justifiable. He's simply more capable of seeing where the others are coming from. If he were in there shoes, he's sure he'd feel the same way. He and Alisha didn't really think things through... not that he's really regrets it. Well, maybe a bit. He's still a bit hung up on being interrupted, though he's sure that'll be rectified later.

"I'm down," Curtis replies. He looks over at Kelly. "Bring the pies." She gives him a funny look and he shrugs. "They ain't been tainted, and I paid for two of 'em."

"I was promised a piece of the chocolate creme," Rudy too says.

Kelly shakes her head at them and reaches in her pocket, pulling out Simons card and walking over to hand it back to him. He quietly thanks her and she nods once before whispering, "Sorry 'bout ruining your moment."

He smiles. "That's all right."

"So, take out," Rudy says with a whistle. "Love me a good eat out. Guessing me and our mate Simon here have that in common."

Rudy too slaps him a push, which makes Rudy slap him back, and in minutes they're grappling back and forth, hitting one another.

Alisha sighs. "Can't we ever have one normal moment?"

Curtis scoffs. "See that happening."

"I'll pay for our meals," Simon tells them, letting out a heavy breath. "It's the least I can do."

"Fuckin Thanksgiving," Alisha mumbles, walking past them all towards the lift. They all follow behind her, even Rudy and his self, even though it's done in a scrambling fashion as they push at one another all the way to the lift.

Up ahead, Simon hears Curtis joking with Alisha about the two of them now sharing experiences of walking in on the other of their ex having sex. He smiles at this as he watches Alisha tell him to shut up and give him a quick punch in the shoulder.

Rudy catches up to him just then and gives him a nudge. "Tell me ye at least plan on picking up where ye left off later on, pal. 'Cause it'd... it'd be a sad thing if that didn't happen. Oy ye must have the _worst _case of blue balls right now. Do, don't ye?"

Simon can only shake his head.

The ride down the lift is on levels of awkward he can't recall them having since the last Christmas they had when Nathan was still around and they were all silently judging him for his jumper. It might be more awkward than that. Especially having Alisha whispering to Kelly about how she should have changed her knickers before they left, which only 'causes Rudy and Curtis to stare at him and smirk.

Outside, he wraps his arm around Alisha and pulls her close, kissing the top of her head. "Sorry about your Thanksgiving dinner."

She shrugs. "Always next year, I guess. Although..." She looks up at him, the corner of her lip turning up into a devious smile, "there _is_ whip cream still a ton of whip cream in the fridge. Maybe we'll find a use for it later?"

He smiles wide. "You're terrible."

"You love me," she retorts, poking him in the side.

"I'm just glad you didn't burn the kitchen down, he fires back with a chuckle.

Alisha freezes, stopping him with her. "Oh, shit."

"What?" he asks, eyes wide and heart skipping extra panicked beats.

"I think I left the hot plate on!"

Images of the vision he once had flash through his head in seconds. "I'll be right back," he tells her.

"Happy fuckin' Thanksgiving," she says between a groan and a laugh.

Happy Thanksgiving, indeed, he thinks, and tells himself next year they'll let the Americans stick to their own holidays.


End file.
